


The Twisted Kingdom

by Calt



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:21:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10136381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calt/pseuds/Calt
Summary: Tersa's life, before, during, and after the events of the Black Jewels series





	1. Prologue

_I listened_  
when he sang to me  
a lover's caress  
that turned to  
a butcher's knife 

_the edges cut me_  
away from  
myself 

_and I broke_

_woke lying in shards_  
crystal bits of  
me  
nothing else  
remained 

_but I could still_  
weave threads anew... 

_A single spark_  
caught, and grew 

_it was his father_  
who had to  
give him a name; I  
couldn't remember  
how  
though I loved him  
just the same 

_voices from the Darkness_  
called me away  
so I took  
to Shadows where I lay... 


	2. Chapter 2

Tersa chased after her father, giggling, as he led her toward the little shop where he worked. He'd promised to show her how he used Craft to make the wooden frames that her Mama needed for the webs.   
Tersa loved watching either of them create things. At not-quite eight years old, she wasn't ready for a Jewel of her own, but she could feel the power that Mama wove into the webs, like a cool breeze against her skin.   
They'd both told her plenty of times never to touch a web, and she wouldn't, but they always answered her questions as best they could. Whether she was asking about Craft things, or the plants that grew in their garden at home, or why horses and ladies didn't take the same amount of time to have babies. That one had made her father fidget a little, turning funny colors before he said anything.

Her Papa stopped abruptly. Tersa caught up to him, only realizing when she did that something was wrong.  
He'd halted to let another Lady pass. The woman was dressed all fancy, and she wore her Jewel around her neck...a Red that  
had a color to it that reminded Tersa of blood.   
She was staring at Tersa, a strange, hungry sort of look on her face. Tersa didn't want to meet her eyes. 

After a moment, she swept past them, not saying anything, as if they weren't really there. 

"She smells bad," Tersa whispered to her father.

"Tersa," he said warningly. 

"Well, she does! I don't care if she's 'risto, didn't her mama teach her to take baths after working?"

"It's not her skin or sweat you're smelling, witchling. Hush now." He took her hand in his, drawing her away, praying silently that Hekatah SaDiablo forgot all about them, but especially his daughter.


	3. Chapter 3

She walked into the Sanctuary. Her grandfather escorted her inside, his pride and love for his oldest granddaughter clear in his voice as he formally presented her to the Priestess.  
Tersa curtsied, a little clumsily. The woman smiled at her.  
The test was easier than she'd thought. Of course, listening--really listening--to the Darkness wasn't too hard if you were alone or mostly so.  
The Jewels were like threads, some stronger and colorful than others. White, Yellow, Tiger Eye and Rose were bright but the tugging she felt didn't come from them. She reached further, slipping past Purple Dusk and Opal.  
Sapphire caught at her, like a warm blanket tangling her hands. She stopped, her little face serious.  
She lifted the Jewel from the Altar with both hands, holding it up for the Priestess to see and acknowledge.  
Her grandfather helped her set the Jewel in a pendant he'd crafted for her, then gently slipped the chain over her head.

The shock and brief fear in her parents' eyes was hidden by smiles so quickly that nobody caught it. Tersa joined her mother, tucking the Jewel away.   
Her father stood before them as her mother lay her hands on Tersa's shoulders, reciting the words that granted him paternity of their firstborn. The man's shoulders relaxed.   
Tersa abandoned formality, pouncing on him for a hug.


	4. Chapter 4

Tersa walked home from school, the late-afternoon sun at her back. 

Her father was in the little garden beside their house, weeding. She went to help him. Her mother was away visiting a friend in a neighboring village. 

"Papa, can I ask you a Craft question? Well, sort of one."

"What is it, witchling?" He paused, setting his spade down to look at her. 

"We were talking about the Hourglass in school today. Someone said Black Widows' visions shouldn't be trusted, that they can lie or misread what they see. Mama's not a liar!" she added indignantly. 

"No, I know. Neither are you. But some people find it easier to be afraid and not to try to understand. It's easy to believe what everyone else tells you. Looking for the truth hidden under lies or misunderstanding is harder, it's scary sometimes. Especially if people tell you you're a fool to even try," he said, a hint of old bitterness in his voice. 

He took her hands in his. "Don't let them tell you that what your mother Is, or you are, is wrong. Your Craft is a gift. Not something bright and shiny like a Queen's power, but just as strong--and just as needed, whether the Blood remember that or not."

He tapped the stony ground by their feet. "Nothing good comes without some work. Whether it's Craft, or digging up these potatoes so we can make your mother's favorite soup for dinner tonight. Everything has a price. "

He gave her a pointed look. Tersa turned back to work, the worry that had been gnawing at her disappearing. 

She did think about what he'd said, however, even as she yanked more rocks out of the way. If she threw a few of them aside harder than she really had to--her father didn't say anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Tersa had grown taller over the last summer. She didn't mind that at all, she liked being able to look at her parents without craning her neck. Or getting things out from a cupboard without needing a chair to stand on.  
Moons' blood, however, was something she felt she could quite easily do without.  
Her mother had explained it to her, once she was old enough. It still _hurt_ , and she hated not being able to do any Craft for days. Her parents told her firmly to stay at the house, and not to allow any strangers inside the shielded areas while they were gone. Not for any reason.

Bored, bored, bored.   
She went out to the garden to gather some of the herbs(and the carrots).   
A little fox stopped to look at her, its bright eyes curious. "Go on," Tersa warned it. "If Mama catches you eating those after all her work, you'll end up stew meat."

*I don't eat plants!* The indignant-sounding boy's voice startled her. She looked around for a second before she realized... *Oooh! You're kindred?*

*That is what you call us,* he agreed warily, then took off. 

She only had time to catch a glimpse of a Yellow Jewel in the fox's ruff before he scampered out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be distinctly unfluffy. If depictions of violence or rape bother you, skip reading.  
> Short nongraphic spoilers: Tersa in this chapter's old enough to have her Virgin Night...and if you've read the original series, you know how that turns out for her.

An aristo family decided to have a grand celebration at Harvest time, throwing their doors open to all of the town's Blood.  
Music and dancing, fine wine and food, no one could say they weren't able to throw a decent party.  
Tersa paused to watch as Luthvian, another dark-Jeweled witch and Sister of the Hourglass, used Craft to spin an illusion of a firebreathing dragon. The other guests ooohed, especially the younger Warlords.

Tersa glided through the crowds, her attention on the dance floor. She wore a new gown that was a soft forest green, a gift from her parents. She wore no Jewels tonight. Her mother had cautioned her that displaying the Sapphire might be considered a challenge if any Queens were in attendance. Her only adornment was a pair of simple gold earrings set with plain red, non magical stones.

 

A Warlord Prince offered her his arm. She let him lead her onto the dance floor, his easy unguarded thoughts, open admiration of her beauty and wit chasing away her shyness.  
He kissed her once, before they separated, sweet and hot, but didn't press for more. 

Across the ballroom, a Red-Jeweled Priestess watched with cold eyes. When Tersa slipped outside for a breath of fresh air, she waited only briefly before following the chit, and signaling two of her own males to follow them as well, unnoticed. 

 

* * *

__

_Aural and sight shields enclosed them. Hard hands caught her arms, dragging her into a shadowy patch of woods where a hidden Coach stood. She was forced inside._  
_Her hands were tied, and an attempt to call in her Jewel resulted in one of her captors striking her hard enough to send her reeling back.  
"No one will come, little witchling," a woman's voice crooned. "You walked out here alone like other Ladies, wanting to meet a lover...and who's going to know that that isn't what happened? After all...your word against ours. And if you gossip, little sister, we'll just have to assume you need further...reeducation. You or your family."_

_Cool, clawed hands cupped her face. She tried to recoil. The man behind her held her firmly in place as Hekatah kissed her roughly, fingers digging into her skin, then forced Tersa's head back to expose her throat.  
Hands slid between her legs, shoving them apart._

_No. No. Please, don't!_

_Her muffled screams of pain drew chuckles from her captors as she was forced down onto her back. Hekatah lifted her mouth from the girl's throat, lips tinged with scarlet. She drew back to let the men take her place for now._


End file.
